Both Sides of the Story
by hotdogfish
Summary: The prey has to run from the hunters to survive. The hunters have to kill their prey to survive. You can't root for one, without realizing the consequences for the other. Rated for violence, but honestly, it's no worse than what you get on National Geographic.


Startled, the herd of ponyta and rapidash took off at a gallop across the plains.

This wasn't a pleasure run, just to feel the wind in their faces, to help the ponyta get faster, or to try and race the setting sun to the horizon. This run was a hunt, and the hunt were a pair of arcanine. There was only two of them, but arcanine were big, and could run for an hour or more. Rapidash, as their name implied, could outrun them, but only for a while.

Their only hope was their speed.

They would eventually tire themselves out and slow their frantic pace, but, if they didn't get a big enough lead between them and the arcanine, then they would catch up and at least one of them would be devoured.

The rapidash knew that it would likely not be a quick, or painless end. There would be no suffocating bite, like from a persian, nor killing venom, like from an arbok; the arcanine had no interest in killing their prey, only injuring it enough so that it couldn't run away or fight back. Once it was incapacitated, alive or dead, they would feed. They usually started with the guts, all that protected them was a thin layer of muscle and they were very nutritious, or the rump. Next, they would eat the larger, skeletal muscles, or try to break open the ribcage for the lungs and heart. If they still had room in their bellies, they would crack open the larger bones for the energy-rich marrow. If not, then they would carry pieces home for later. At some point, the prey would die.

Realistically, the rapidash were in little danger, the arcanine had little interest in chasing one of them for miles and miles, to then still have to fight it once they caught up. The rapidash had too much of a speed advantage over them to make hunting them worth while.

A speed advantage that the ponyta did NOT have. Not all of them, at least.

The older ponyta? They were in quite a bit of danger. They weren't as tall, as strong, or as fast as the rapidash. They'd had lots of practice keeping up with the herd, as well as running from hunters. Some had even managed to escape smaller hunters after being captured, putting up enough of a fight, and enough fire, to get away. Unfortunately, arcanine were not smaller hunters, and their fire type made the ponyta's fire an ineffective deterrent. The arcanine could easily take down a ponyta, regardless of how old and fast it was, because they weren't old or fast enough. The older ponyta had only one defense: the younger ponyta.

The younger ones that were only a year old and were still growing.

The younger ones that were only a few months old and still building up their stamina.

The youngest one that had been born late and was only three days old and still discovering the world around him. The one that was a little bit of a runt. The one that still stumbled when running because he ran faster than he was used to paying attention to and would trip over rocks or lumps of grass. The one who liked to frolic in the dandelion heads to watch the seeds fly away in the wind. The one who tried so hard to keep up with his cousins and half-siblings in their racing games. The one who was quickly falling behind.

The arcanine quickly fell upon him in glee, ecstatic that they would have such an easy hunt this time. One of them swiped at him with a giant paw, knocking him to the ground.

His mother was already far enough ahead that she didn't hear his frantic screaming as he scrambled back to his hooves, the other one quickly approaching him.

His squeals were cut off as the arcanine grabbed him by the neck and furiously shook him side to side.

Content that her meal wasn't going to get away, the arcanine dropped her prize and barked to her mate to confirm the kill. He came bounding over and the two quickly tore into the ponyta.

It didn't last long, and they were still hungry when all the meat was gone, but it was enough to keep them going for another day or so. They then picked up as many bones as they could fit into their mouths to take back to their den, to crack open when they were somewhere a bit more defensible. If they had a bigger pack, they would have successful hunts more often, and not only would they be able to take down bigger prey, but they would be able to defend it too. With just the two of them, all but the smallest of prey usually escaped them, and it was taking its toll.

Once they arrived home, their two pups bounded out of their den. Two pups where there had originally been six. Two pups that were all paws, tails, bumbling playing, xylophone ribs, and jutting hipbones.

The lack of prey was taking its toll.


End file.
